


The Life of History

by sometimes_i_write



Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Friendship, London, Love, M/M, New York City, Octavius/Jedediah - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Freeform, mostly Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_write/pseuds/sometimes_i_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Larry Daley has to travel to London to learn how to save Ahkmenrah's tablet, Sherlock is the only person who can help him. ***Spoilers for Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write a Sherlock/Night at the Museum crossover because why not? This is set during the third Night at the Museum movie, but I changed some things to work better with Sherlock. It should still make sense if you're not familiar with Night at the Museum, or haven't seen the third movie. Thank you so much for reading!

Larry Daley had to go to London.

 

Why did Larry have to go to London? Because Cecil told him it was the only way to save the museum. Cecil was part of an excavation group that discovered the pharoah Ahkmenrah’s tablet. Unfortunately, a problem with the tablet had recently arisen--it had started corroding. Its powers to bring everything to life in the Natural History Museum in New York City began to grow weaker as the corrosion continued. The only way to fix it was to go to the Natural History Museum in London. The tablet meant everything to Larry--it was the only reason he had friends.

The past few days were stressful. The museum Larry worked at in New York had just unveiled its new planetarium technology. Larry, who started as a night guard at the museum, was put in charge of special effects, which was basically a cover for the secret of everything coming to life at night in the museum. Larry wasn’t even great at technology, so the only reason he had this job was because of the museum’s secret night-life. 

Larry could not imagine life as a night guard if the tablet ceased to work. Without the tablet’s powers, Larry probably would have quit his job as a night guard out of boredom. The plan was to travel to London to meet with Ahkmenrah’s parents who undoubtedly knew more about the tablet than he did. Ahkmenrah was certain they would know what to do.

 

:)

 

“Bored,” Sherlock complained as he watched John fish for his key to unlock the door to 221B Baker Street.

“You cannot be serious!,” John exclaimed. “You just got done solving a case--a murder--ten minutes ago.”

“Yes, but it was a boring case, John,” Sherlock complained, which seemed to explain his boredom.

John could not believe Sherlock’s insensitivity sometimes. The single murder could have easily led to more deaths if Sherlock had not solved the case! Then, John could not believe his own stupidity. This was Sherlock; he should expect this kind of behavior from the consulting detective at this point. 

“Oh John, don’t act surprised,” Sherlock said, reading John’s mind, “you should know me by now.”

John always felt annoyed that Sherlock always seemed to be able to read him like a book. Like a picture book, no less. “Just .  . . find another case, alright?” Anything to free Sherlock from boredom was all John asked. 

 

:)

 

When the new planetary was unveiled at the museum, Larry thought he had the event covered. Enlisting the members of the museum exhibits to help with the special effects in the presentation wasn’t his greatest idea, he would admit that much, but the pros outweighed the cons: he wouldn’t have to pay anyone, they would have every night to practice, and he trusted them. Unfortunately, Ahkmenrah’s tablet _had_ to be corroding. And no one knew what that meant until the unveiling of the planetarium. 

“Showtime!” Dr. McPhee exclaimed, slapping Larry on the back as he walked by Larry on his way to mingle with the museum board and guests in attendance. Dr. McPhee was Larry’s boss as the director of the museum. His job was riding on this as much as Larry’s. Larry was nervous. There were a lot of people in attendance, and a lot could go wrong. At first, things were great. Larry relaxed a little by trying to dwell on the positives of the evening:

  1. Teddy Roosevelt rode out on his horse and stunned the audience.
  2. Dexter the capuchin monkey nailed his acrobatics routine. 
  3. The actual planetarium effects were pretty spectacular. Stars dazzling in the form of different animals and figures seemed lifelike and free. They shimmered and flowed across the room as the audience members gasped and pointed excitedly. In that moment, Larry felt like _the_ man.



 

But yeah, that couldn’t last. Of course not--there’s always something. In just what could’ve been the blink of an eye, Teddy Roosevelt was on the table wielding a sword, Dexter was attacking people, and what appeared to be the rest of the members of the exhibits in the museum suddenly barged in and created chaos, seemingly unaware of themselves or their surroundings. In that moment, Larry felt like _the_ man--the man that was going to get fired.

 

:)

 

Did Sherlock find a case? Not yet, to John’s dismay. Violin playing it was then, for the moment at least. John sighed. “Is it really _that_ boring? Life without solving cases?”

 

Sherlock abruptly stopped playing his violin, practically throwing his arms out of playing position. He looked at John, the look that John expected Sherlock to give him, and went back to playing.

John was fighting an internal conflict, one that had turned into war recently due to the fact he had time to think. Sherlock valued cases to distract him from the inevitably mundane aspects of life. John valued cases to distract himself from ordinary civilian life as well, but also from Afghanistan, his alcoholic sister, and just overthinking things in general. Currently, he was thinking about how he didn’t like that Sherlock thought life outside of cases was boring. He was essentially Sherlock’s life outside of cases. He was boring, and he knew it. He just didn’t understand why he cared what Sherlock thought. He worked up the confidence to steer his currently one-sided conversation in another direction.

 

“Right. So, how boring am I exactly?” John asked, knowing that there was no way he would like Sherlock’s answer, whatever it might be. Sherlock kept playing, so John assumed he hadn’t heard his question. Just as John was about to give up hope that his question would receive an answer, Sherlock put his violin down and sat on the couch next to John.

 

“Boring?”

“Well, yes, I am rather ordinary,” John confessed.

“Of course. I’d be lost without you,” Sherlock replied, clearly confused. He thought that John knew that. John had to know that.

“So I _am_ boring?” John replied, ignoring the compliment part of the half-compliment Sherlock gave him.

“John, you are extraordinary. I wouldn’t let just anyone blog about my life,” Sherlock reassured him.

John, however, had heard this all before; he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t complain about how Sherlock took him for granted, or didn’t pay attention to him half of the time. He didn’t know where to start, and he definitely didn’t have the confidence to approach the subject it might lead to.

“You’re not convinced,” Sherlock observed.

“Well . . . .“

“You’re not, it’s obvious.”

“What am I supposed to say to that? Yes?”

“It is true. I’m never wrong.”

John partially smiled, “No, you never are.”

 

The two sat in silence until Sherlock couldn’t stand it anymore. “Tell me,” he said.

“What?” John asked.

“Tell me why.”

If John didn’t even understand his feelings, how was he supposed to know what to say? He opted for the stereotypical ordinary response of, “I don’t know.”

Sherlock looked at John--really looked at him, analysing him like reading a passage in a book that makes no sense the first ten times it’s read. Finally, he gave John a complacent look. “I do.”

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds a case that may or may not actually be a case

 

“Thanks Larry,” Dr. McPhee growled as Larry walked into his office the next day.

“Ummm . . . you’re welcome . . .?” Larry answered. He had no idea why Dr. McPhee would be thanking him after the episode last night.

“Sarcasm, Larry,” Dr. McPhee replied.

“Oh, right,” Larry answered, “Hey I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Dr. McPhee’s rage at Larry’s behavior was obvious. “Larry, I was just fired, I don’t work here anymore.”

“Fired? Because--”

“Yes, because of your antics. You’re in charge of special effects!”

“But I’m not the reason you got fired.” 

“Bloody hell! Of course you are! Did you not hear me? You’re in charge of special effects! That _is_ your job title!”

Larry sighed. He had always realized that the truth would have to come out eventually. “Well, actually not. See, it wasn’t special effects.”

“It .  . .wasn’t . . .special . . . effects?”

“No, every night, everything in the museum comes to life.”

“You’re--you’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. You know Ahkmenrah? You know his tablet? It has the power to bring everything to life--I swear!”

“Now I _know_ you’re mental.”  
“But the tablet, it’s been corroding, and it might have something to do with what happened last night. I have to figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay . . . “ Dr. McPhee replied, clearly not believing a word coming out of Larry’s mouth.

“So that’s why I’m here, actually. I need to take Ahkmenrah and the tablet to London.”

“Larry, did you not hear what I told you? I was just fired, I can’t authorize this.”

“Yeah, but you were _just_ fired. The director at the museum in London wouldn’t know that.”

 

Dr. McPhee smiled despite the fact that he still didn’t believe Larry about Ahkmenrah or his tablet.

 

:)

 

John was confused about what it meant that Sherlock “did.” He had thought about it for the past day and a half. Still no case, or at least one that Sherlock deemed interesting enough for his expertise. 

“Sherlock . . . “ John started. He had tried starting some sort of conversation with his flatmate for the past day, but he was at a loss for words. Every time John said his name though, Sherlock never failed to respond.

“John . . . again? Really? This is getting rather predictable,” Sherlock replied.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just . . . “

“Just what, John?” 

“You . . . do  . . .?”

“Ah. Yes. I understand you.”

“Even when I don’t understand myself?”

“Always.”

“Explain it then--wait don’t! I want the struggle of figuring it out myself.”

“You don’t know, and you want to struggle?” Sherlock looked genuinely confused. John figured Sherlock was probably adding that to his Mind Palace.

“Well, it’s complicated. I want to know, but it’s not very exciting if you just tell me,” John explained.

“I see. You’ve got some time to think. We don’t have a case,” 

“Yeah. I know. I’ll . . . think,” John answered, “I’ll let you know if I figure anything out.”

“Good. “

 

:)

 

Dr. McPhee picked up the phone, his hands shaking due to the adrenaline rush from  the anticipation of what he was about to do. This was devious--this was exciting. His last “hurrah” before leaving his post as director. His last attempt to do _something_ that could possibly matter, even if there was only a very slight chance that Larry wasn’t crazy.

“Hello, this is Dr. McPhee. I am the director-- _still_ the director-- of the Natural History Museum in New York. I would like to make arrangements for a delivery to your museum . . .”

 

Larry felt hopeful. With the help of Ahkmenrah, he could save the museum; he could even save Dr. McPhee’s job, maybe. With his new-found excitement, Larry went to meet his son Nick. Nick had known about the museum’s secret almost as long as Larry, and Larry wanted him to come to London.

Larry thought Nick was a good, sensible kid. A good kid in the sense that he was smart and would probably succeed in whatever he wanted to do in life, as long as that involved further education in college starting next fall, which Larry was convinced it did. 

“Hey Dad!” Nick exclaimed as Larry walked out of the museum.

“Nicki! We’re going to London.”

Nick looked confused, “Dad do I have to--”

“You remember how I told you about the corrosion on the tablet?”

And with that, Larry dragged Nick back to the apartment to start scheming. They would need a way to get into the museum with Ahkmenrah in order to meet with his parents. This plan had to be fool-proof.

 

:)

 

“John!” Sherlock exclaimed, bounding up from his chair, “a case!”

“Finally. Thank God,” John replied, relieved he didn’t have to do any more thinking for a while.

“Yes, well, it might be a case.”

“Might be?” It was never good if Sherlock wasn’t sure about something. “It must really be interesting if you’re taking it and you’re not even sure if it’s even a case.”

“Well, Mycroft may have suggested it,” Sherlock explained. “He’s coming over soon to fill us in on the details.”

Mycroft walked in the door at that exact moment. Perfect timing.

“Hello brother dearest,” Mycroft said, “And John, always a pleasure.”

“Hello Mycroft,” John replied.

“So this case, that is why you’re here,” Sherlock said rudely.

“Ah yes. Well, it’s more of a favor than a case perhaps,” Mycroft started.

Sherlock did not look pleased.

Mycroft quickly continued, “The director at the Natural History Museum here in London received a call this morning from the Natural History Museum in New York City about a delivery.”

Sherlock snorted. “I don’t see the big deal.”

“The museum in New York would like to deliver a couple of valuable Egyptian artifacts to the London museum for no apparent reason.”

“Okay . . . I can’t say I see where you’re going with this,” John admitted.

“Well, you see John, the call from New York was made by the director of the museum. He was fired an hour before he made the call.”

“Interesting,” Sherlock managed.

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting past security is just too easy.

After Ahkmenrah and his tablet were loaded into crates, Larry and Nick were off to London. Larry decided to take this time to discuss college applications with Nick.

“So, are you finished with your New York University application yet?” Larry asked his son. NYU had always been Nick’s dream school.

“No, I don’t think I’ll get in, dad,” Nick reluctantly replied.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not planning on sending an application in,” Nick answered.

Larry let this sink in. Then he realized what Nick meant. He could deal with this. “So, you don’t want to go there, that’s fine. You want to get out of the city. What colleges are you looking at?”

“I don’t really have a list.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m  . . . thinking about taking a year off. It’s what I want to do.”

Larry realized he didn’t know what Nick had meant. “What are you going to do?” 

“Deejaying--I think it’d be cool. And I don’t know if I’ll end up at college someday even; I don’t want to plan ahead.”

Larry was not okay with this. At all. “Nicki, these are some really . . . drastic choices . . . we need to discuss this.”

“Dad, you didn’t go to college and you turned out fine.”

Suddenly Larry understood what a bad example he had set for his son. His ex-wife, Nick’s mom, had always warned him.

 

:)

 

“Okay, so he was fired. What does that have to do with the delivery?”John asked.

“Oh John, I can think of several possibilities, come on, think!” Sherlock exclaimed. He wished John would think when it came to cases.

“Right. Well, he could just want to mess with the New York museum, some sort of revenge act for being fired, I guess. Or he could be planning on stealing the artifacts without delivering them but he was forced to make the call.”

“Good John! There are so many possibilities right now. We need to investigate this more thoroughly. I emailed the director of the London Natural History Museum, and the delivery is supposed to happen tonight. The game is on!” Sherlock radiated excitement, for what, John wasn’t exactly sure.

“What’s the plan?” John asked.

“It’s rather obvious, John, we need to sneak into the museum tonight.”

“So we can just be security guards or something?”

“No, John, for this, I believe we’ll want to be right in the middle of it. If we dress up as security guards, it might be a disadvantage.”

“So, who are we dressing up as?”

“No one.” Sherlock replied, “It’s not going to be hard, we’ll just show up and hide out until the delivery arrives.”

“So no elaborate plan, at all?” John asked. Usually Sherlock came up with pretty creative ideas when it came to investigations.

:)

 

Larry was done talking to Nick about his life-choices for the moment. He had more important things to worry about. 

 

“Nicki, can you give me a hand with loading these crates into the van?” Larry asked, gesturing to the two large crates in front of him.

“Sure, but why are there two? Isn’t this just Ahkmenrah and his tablet?” Nick asked.

Technically, it should be, but Larry knew that Ahkmenrah probably wasn’t the only one to come along.

Nick slammed the back door of the truck, and he and Larry hopped in and drove from the airport to the museum. There was certainly tension, but neither Daley brought up the fact that Nick wasn’t planning on going to college next year.

Larry pulled into the museum parking lot. It was dark outside, which Larry found to be promising. The darkness meant that as soon as he and Nick got inside the museum with the tablet, everything would come to life. 

It was showtime. Larry rolled down his window at the tollbooth. The security guard looked typical to Larry, so there was nothing to worry about. He relaxed a little.

“Hello, I’m Tilly,” the guard said, clearly happy to be having a conversation with someone during her shift.

Larry wasn’t used to security guards just giving their names out. “Umm . . . okay. I’m Larry. I’m here to make a delivery from the Natural History Museum in New York?”

“Right okay. I’ll just have to clear you,” Tilly replied.

“It’s been cleared already,” Larry reasoned.

“What do you think of my hair?” Tilly asked.

This was getting extremely off topic and just plain weird. Larry shifted in his seat. “What?”

“My hair! My boyfriend doesn’t like it,” Tilly exclaimed.

Larry observed that her long blond hair was pulled into a side ponytail and curled under her mandatory uniform hat. “Can you just clear me?” 

“Well I like it.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t care if he does; it’s _my_ hair.”

“Okay.”

“Oh! You want me to let you in!”

“Well, I kind of need to do my job and make this delivery.”

“They don’t let me travel.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re from New York. I go home, come here, go home . . .”

“Yeah, I’ve never done this before. I don’t usually travel either.”

Tilly didn’t believe him. New York, in her mind, was all kinds of wonderful. It had to be amazing to work in a city like New York. “Hold on--I’ll just make a call.”

“Like I have anywhere to go,” Larry countered quietly, more to himself than Tilly.

 

:)

 

“We really just need to get in unnoticed,” Sherlock explained when John asked him what he should wear.

“So if I wear a jumper--”

“Yes, a jumper is fine John.” Sherlock said as he adjusted his iconic scarf.

 

When the two were ready to go, they set off to the museum with an hour or two of daylight left to spare.

“Sherlock, we don’t even look like we belong here,” John complained.

Sherlock stopped and looked at John for a moment. “You don’t think this will work”

“No, I don’t. How is this supposed to help us get in?” John asked, annoyed at this point.

“We’re not just going to walk right in, John.”

“Then what are we going to do exactly?” 

“Well, the museum is expecting a delivery, a delivery that is extremely valuable--”

“Exactly! So security will be tough to get through!”

“No. No one knows this delivery is coming, why would they have to waste the efforts to increase security?”

“Oh. I see.”

“As I was saying, the museum is expecting a delivery, which means the loading dock should be open.”

“And that’s how we’re going to sneak in?”

“Precisely.”

“And the cover is that we’re . . . ?”

“The museum’s still open John. We don’t need a cover.”

“Okay”

“The museum is still open for another hour, which means there will be other people. There isn’t anything to worry about.”

“Why don’t we just go in the main entrance, you know, like _normal_ people?”

“They count exactly how many people go in and out of the main entrance. They’ll know if we don’t leave. Plus, normal is so boring, John.”

This seemed reasonable to John.“And once we’re inside?”

“I think it would be easiest to just wait in the loading dock. There are probably enough places to hide in that area, and it will be the entrance the delivery comes to if it even arrives. While the museum is open though, we should take a look around. We need to at least take a look at the Egypt exhibit.”

 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John also find security easy to get past.

Tilly scanned the paperwork regarding the delivery that her boss had faxed to her earlier. As soon as she found a phone number, she picked up the phone and called.

Assuming it was the current museum director, she asked him to authorize the delivery. In actuality it was Dr. McPhee, who was rather enjoying the whole operation at this point.

“I need you to clear the delivery,” Tilly stated, in a clearly bored tone. Just another day at the job--nothing exciting ever happens when you’re a night guard at a museum. 

“Yes, I authorize it. Let them in,” McPhee giggled with pleasure.

Tilly hung up and opened the gate for Larry. 

“Thanks,” Larry said, relieved this conversation, that shouldn’t have even been a conversation, was over. He pulled through the gates and arrived at the loading dock after looking to the signs for direction.

 

:)

 

Sherlock and John were on foot at the gate of the back entrance of the museum. Sherlock strolled up to the tollbooth, and John braced himself. He had no idea what Sherlock planned to say, if it would be “Sherlockian” or not. He didn’t really care--as long as it got them in.

 

“Hello.” Sherlock said, as the security guard rolled down the window.

John noticed she was the typical security guard, though a little younger than most. She had long blond hair that was tied into a side ponytail, and it looked like it had been curled. She looked friendly, definitely easy to fool, and she wasn’t in the best shape. This all amused John, as he realized security guards should theoretically not be easy to outsmart, but they always were. This one was no different.

“Hi! I’m Tilly,” She exclaimed, “it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Not a lot of people come through here.” 

If she was suspicious, she didn’t show it. John could tell this conversation was going to take a while--she was definitely the chatty type.

“So your boyfriend doesn’t like your hair,” Sherlock started. Yep, this conversation was going in the “Sherlockian” direction.

“What? Well . . .yes, but how--”

“Did I know that? It’s quite obvious--”

“Sherlock! We don’t have time,” John complained. He really didn’t want to hear Sherlock’s deductions right now.

“Anything else?” Tilly asked, clearly interested in Sherlock’s deduction skills.

“Hmmm . . . like I said, your boyfriend doesn’t like the way you do your hair. You aren’t in love with him, but you stay with him because you have no one else, which is reasonable because you’re a night guard at a museum, why would you have friends--”

“SHERLOCK!” John exclaimed. He was afraid that if Sherlock continued to insult Tilly, that she wouldn’t let them in.

Sherlock pretended to ignore John. He focused his attention on Tilly. “Your shift just started, you’re bracing yourself for another boring evening. Before I showed up, you just received word of a delivery coming tonight, and you’re hoping something interesting will happen, but not too interesting because you don’t want to leave your post or have to alert anyone. That would be a lot of work, and you don’t like doing a lot of work, that’s why you took this job.”

Tilly looked at Sherlock, clearly impressed with his deductions. She completely forgot to ask why the consulting detective and his blogger requested entrance to the museum; she just opened the gates. They were in.

 

:)

 

“Nicki--”

“Yes, Dad, I’ll help you get the crates out of the van,” Nick replied, just wanting this all to be over. He didn’t want to be in London. He wanted to be home, partying with his friends. With Andrea--the girl in his calculus class that he may or may not have a thing with.

As soon as the crates were inside the loading dock, Ahkmenrah popped out with his tablet. He seemed eager to see his parents, and he was unharmed by the journey. 

“A few others wanted to come--” Ahkmenrah started, as suddenly half of the Natural History Museum in New York busted out of the two crates. Inside were Teddy Roosevelt, Jedediah, Octavius, Attila the Hun, Sacajawea, Dexter, and Laaa the Neanderthal. 

 

Larry wasn’t thrilled about the number of people--if they even could be considered people--that had come along. What should have been an easy operation, had just become a lot harder, even if they all proved to be useful. 

 

It was good Teddy was here--Larry liked talking to the former president, and Teddy had convinced Larry that he could do great things; he had given Larry a feeling of confidence. Jedediah and Octavius, being small figurines, would probably get lost. And they would fight but secretly they were best friends. Maybe even closer than best friends now; Larry wasn’t sure. Attila the Hun could be used for intimidation. He was a large man and pretty scary. Sacajawea was calm and rational, so she could be a valuable asset, or at least, wouldn’t hinder their efforts. Dexter could go either way--sometimes he slapped Larry and stole his keys, but other times he was fiercely loyal to Larry. And Laaa--well Laaa thought Larry was his father or something on account of their strikingly similar appearances. Larry didn’t have much hope Laaa would be useful at all. He had to do something with the Neanderthal.

“Hey Laaa, I have something important that you need to do for me,” Larry told Laaa.

Laaa grunted some sort of reply, eagerly following Larry to the door.

“I need you to guard the door, and not to move,” Larry told Laaa, demonstrating with both of his palms pressed on the door. 

Laaa copied Larry.

“Stay,” Larry told Laaa, as he moved away from the door.

Unfortunately, Laaa continued to copy Larry. He moved away from the door as well.

Larry reassumed his position as a demonstration for Laaa. “Stay,” he told Laaa again. Laaa nodded, as if he understood. When Larry moved from the door again, however, Laaa did the same. This went on for a few minutes, finally ending the way Larry had hoped: with Laaa guarding the door. Larry told Laaa good job. He was relieved as he moved away from the door as Laaa stayed put. One less person to worry about.

All of a sudden, Larry heard commotion coming from the back corner of the loading dock. Whether it was actually a person or something that had come to life, Larry wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

 

:)

 

As soon as Sherlock and John got into the museum, they headed straight for the Egypt exhibit. Considering the pieces that would supposedly arrive soon were found in the same discovery, taking a look at Merenkahre, Shepseheret, and their artifacts wouldn’t hurt.

As they walked, John broke the silence. “This is actually working.”

“Of course it is, John.”

“So . . . “

“So . . .?”

John didn’t really know what to say. There were things he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t. 

Sherlock and John reached the Egypt exhibit. Everything seemed alright to John, although there was a spot on the wall that looked like it would fit a tablet--a tablet that was going to be delivered tonight. 

Sherlock noticed it too, and he was trying to desperately make sense of it all. He realized he couldn’t reach a conclusion until he knew more information--information he could learn from whoever delivered the artifacts. Maybe.

John could tell Sherlock was frustrated. What if this wasn’t even a case? No. It _had_ to be a case, there just wasn’t hardly anything to piece together yet. There was only the Egypt exhibit, the fact that the other half of the exhibit was in New York, the phone call, and the delivery. That was it so far.

“Back to the loading dock?” John asked. There wasn’t much time until the museum closed, and they couldn’t risk being discovered hiding out. 

“Yes, I think so,” Sherlock answered. 

This time as they walked, John didn’t break the silence--Sherlock did.

“That time you had to think before this . . . case . . . any conclusions?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, you’ll have some time while we wait for the delivery,” Sherlock offered.

“Yeah, I guess so,” John answered. He really didn’t want to think about Sherlock in the middle of a case. 

Back in the loading dock area, Sherlock assessed it would be best for them to hide in the corner behind some crates and boxes that were just lying around. From this position, they could see anyone who entered the area. John shifted uncomfortably, there wasn’t a lot of room in the corner, especially not with two grown men.

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds that Larry is the definition of ordinary.

Larry braced himself for the worst. _At least I have the numbers_ , he thought, which he found surprising, considering he had just been complaining about how having more people with him would be a hinderance. Larry heard voices:

“John”

“What?”

“This is painful to watch.”

“The Neanderthal?”

“Yes, how can he be so stupid.”

“He’s . . . I don’t know. He’s just a good actor I suppose.”

“Yes.”

 

Larry was confident at that point that he was dealing with people--not museum artifacts. Great. He really didn’t need complications at this point.

 

“He knows we’re here,” Sherlock observed, “but he’s not looking to find us. Interesting.”

“Maybe he doesn’t care, Sherlock. If he knows we’re here, we might as well . . .”

“Come out?”

“Yes.”

Larry did not like the sound of that. Whoever these night guards were, he had no idea why they were hiding. Security in London was so much different than security in the States.

 

Suddenly two men tumbled out of the corner. Larry and his friends looked confused. These men were not security guards--they weren’t dressed in uniforms. 

“Hello, I’m John and this is Sherlock,” the shorter man said.

“What were you two doing back there . . . making out?” Larry smiled; he had no tact.

Sherlock and John suddenly both turned red and didn’t dare to look at each other.

“I’m Larry. This is my son Nick,” Larry said as he gestured towards Nick, “And this is Teddy Roosevelt,” he continued, as he pointed to Teddy, “Jedediah, Octavius, Attila the Hun, Sacajawea, and Dexter,” he named off, pointing to each of his friends.

Sherlock gazed towards the Neanderthal, who was still guarding the door.

“Oh! And Laaa,” Larry finished.

“And I am Ahkmenrah,” Ahkmenrah proclaimed, “and this is my tablet,” he said, holding out the solid 24 karat gold tablet, which was over halfway corroded.

Sherlock was confused. There was literally a Neanderthal guarding the door. And then there were two miniature-- actually miniature--people assisting with this delivery. Why were there so many people--strange people--needed here?

“Okay, so you’re confused,” Larry observed, “I’ll admit--it is confusing.”

Sherlock did not like being confused. He glared at Larry.

“It’s okay, I’ll explain,” Larry started, “That tablet that Ahkmenrah’s holding? It has the power to bring everything to life. So everyone and everything here is brought to life by it. But it’s corroding, and we have to fix it--if not, the magic that brings everything to life won’t exist anymore. We’re here to see Ahkmenrah’s parents. Ahkmenrah thinks his father might be able to help.”

“Magic?” Sherlock asked. There had to be a reasonable explanation to this, there always was. No way was there magic.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy, but you have to believe me. It’s true,” Larry pleaded.

Sherlock didn’t look convinced, and he didn’t try to hide it either.

“So are you going to try to stop us?” Larry asked.

 

:)

 

Sherlock took one look at Larry and smiled. This was too easy. “You’re from New York, obviously, that’s where that tablet’s from. You’re divorced, probably because you have trouble holding a steady job. Because of that, you’ve moved around a lot. Naturally, you give up easily and search for instant gratification, which, I’m sorry to say, is rather impossible to find in this world. You’ve had a few girlfriends--one of which was a wax figure of Amelia Earhart--but again, you give up, why should relationships be any different--”

“How . . . ?” Larry was suspicious.

“He does this. A lot,” John answered.

“You have quit this job before to try selling your inventions, but you missed the museum terribly. You find your life boring and meaningless without it, so got yourself rehired. You consider yourself ordinary, which I can confirm is true, and that’s why you took this job in the first place. Unfortunately that’s exactly what they wanted when they hired you, wasn’t it? A few elderly men tried to take the tablet when you were on duty, and they would have succeeded if not for your ability to obtain help from everyone and everything in the museum.  Did I miss anything?”  
“To be fair, those old guys were really smart and in shape. And there was some punching and roundhouse kicking involved, but not from me,” Larry explained.

“Obviously not!” Sherlock exclaimed. “Then there’s your son.”

John groaned. 

“He has looked up to you his entire life, but lately he has made some questionable choices, which has caused you to realize that you were not the best example. He doesn’t want to go to college; he doesn’t want to fall into society’s patterns, and why should he? You didn’t, and you are content with your life. In fact he doesn’t even want to be here right now; he’d rather be partying back home in New York,” Sherlock concluded, watching Larry’s reaction.

“Everything you said is right,” he confirmed.

“You don’t look surprised, why don’t you look surprised?” Sherlock asked, demanding a response.

“Believe me, out of the things I’ve seen in my life, you’re the most believable,” Larry answered.

This was something Sherlock had never heard before. Usually people were confused, upset, maybe even a little bit frightened. They were never just accepting, or completely unfazed, when it came to Sherlock’s deductions. 

 

:)

 

“So the tablet,” John said, ignoring Sherlock being Sherlock, and trying to follow what was going on.

“Yeah, we have to find Ahkmenrah’s parents,” Larry answered. 

“Do you?” Sherlock asked, irritated that Larry didn’t just ask him what to do.

“Well, yes, that’s why we’re here in London,” Larry answered, annoyed that Sherlock didn’t seem to understand his dire situation.

“Egypt . . .” Ahkmenrah said, trying to get the group to move forward.

“Right,” Sherlock said. Together, they all started walking toward Egypt, when suddenly they realized it was going to be a lot harder with everything in the museum alive.

“Who . . . are you . . . ?” a man covered in armour asked as the group passed by.

“Ah Sir Lancelot,” Sherlock eagerly stated, clearly liking the whole idea of history coming to life. Literally. 

“We need to get to Egypt,” Larry answered as he launched into the whole story of the corrupted tablet. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. How could Larry be so stupid that he just told random strangers _everything_? Sherlock looked at John, trying to express a look of _See John? You’re not ordinary--Larry is ordinary. You are so much more_. He hoped John understood. Sherlock fixed his gaze back on Lancelot.

“This tablet . . . it’s very valuable, is it not?” Lancelot asked, “I can get it for you. That skinny man possessing it would be easy to steal from.”

Larry suddenly realized that Lancelot didn’t understand. “No no no. He’s with me, we’re on the same side.”

Lancelot still didn’t understand why Larry wouldn’t want the valuable tablet.

“Evil,” Sherlock stated, with a bored look on his face.

“Excuse me?” Larry said, slightly appalled.

John just rolled his eyes, but he was secretly enjoying the consulting detectives deductions at the moment. Sherlock didn’t get to show off much anymore, since all of Scotland Yard knew what to expect from him by now.

“Lancelot. He’s evil. He wants the tablet. Obviously,” Sherlock answered.

Larry didn’t know whether to trust Sherlock or not, but the man did figure out his life story pretty fast. It also helped that Larry was confident that Lancelot would be of no use to them on their little quest. “Attila,” Larry called, not wanting to take any chances, “watch this guy.”

Attila nodded vigorously as he gripped Lancelot’s wrists. Lancelot would no longer be a problem with Attila looking after him.

 

:)

 

Reaching the Egypt exhibit wasn’t a problem, not with Sherlock accompanying them. There had been some snake god or something with several heads, a large triceratops skeleton similar to Rexy back in New York, among other things, but Sherlock was calculating and got the entire group to Egypt unharmed. Larry decided it was best if only he, Nick, and Ahkmenrah went to meet with Ahkmenrah’s parents. The rest of the party could wait outside. 

“Alright, Ahkmenrah, Nicki, and I are going to go talk to Ahkmenrah’s parents now, so you guys stay here,” Larry told his friends. “Sherlock, you and John . . . just thank you so much. I don’t think we’ll need your help anymore.” 

“Wrong,” Sherlock whispered.

John looked at Sherlock and smiled. Sherlock had it figured out, that much was obvious.

 

Ahkmenrah clutched the tablet and followed Nick and Larry into the exhibit.

“Mother, Father, I have returned,” Ahkmenrah announced.

“Son!” Ahkmenrah’s father, Merenkahre, exclaimed, excitedly pulling Ahkmenrah into a hug. His mother, Shepseheret, hugged him shortly after.

“These are my friends, Larry, Guardian of Brooklyn, and his son, Nick,” Ahkmenrah announced, proudly.

“Actually, I live in Manhattan now,” Larry explained.

“It doesn’t sound as cool,” Ahkmenrah countered.

“Fine. Yes. I am Guardian of Brooklyn,” Larry agreed.

“Kiss my staff,” Merenkahre commanded.

“What?” Larry asked.

“You heard me--kiss my staff, Larry, Guardian of Brooklyn,” Merenkahre repeated.

“Ummm . . . no . . .” Larry answered.

“I _am_ a Pharaoh, practically a god,” Merenkahre explained, appalled at how Larry was acting.

“And I’m Jewish,” Larry answered.

“Oh! I love the Jews!” Merenkahre exlaimed.

Larry relaxed a little; this wasn’t going badly at all.

“I owned _thousands_ of them,” Merenkahre gushed.

And then Larry realized it wasn’t going so well.

“They were always so happy,” Shepseheret reminisced. 

“No, no they weren’t,” Larry replied incredulously. 

“We’re here about my tablet,” Ahkmenrah cut in, trying to save Larry.

“Ah yes, your tablet,” Merenkahre commented.

“Well, it looks like this,” Ahkmenrah said as he held out the corroded tablet, “and I need to know how to fix it. You know the secrets about the tablet, the secrets you never shared with me,” Ahkmenrah explained bitterly.

Merenkahre’s face suddenly drained of color. “I--I’ve no idea what to do.”

Those were not the words Ahkmenrah, Nick, or Larry wanted to hear.

“You. Have. To. Know. Please father--this is important,” Ahkmenrah pleaded, unable to believe his father did not know everything about the tablet.

“Would it help if I kissed your staff now?” Larry asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uhh--no,” Merenkahre replied. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you son, even I am blind to some of the secrets of the tablet.”

 


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock knows everything. Larry does not know that--yet.

John felt awkward. Yes, he was with Sherlock, but he was also with a bunch of museum whatevers that just happened to be alive.

“So truth or dare?” Jedediah asked the group to break the awkward silence.

“Or I could just deduce you all, and skip the hassle,” Sherlock answered, clearly bored and frustrated at this point. He still couldn’t understand why Larry didn’t ask him about the tablet. Sherlock knew what to do. He had figured it out just like he figured out every other case.

“Sure, go ahead, scarf-man,” Jedediah replied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes; the miniature man has character--he’d give him that. 

“Well since Sir “Give me the Tablet,” the stupid Neanderthal, Ahkmenrah and Attila the Hun aren’t here, I’m just not going to waste time on them,” Sherlock started. 

Everyone nodded eagerly. They had all been thoroughly impressed with Sherlock’s deductions of Larry and Nick earlier. 

“Let’s start with Octavius then, shall we?”

Octavius turned a bright shade of red, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable with the consulting detective’s focus on him.

“Despite the fact you’re small, you are extremely useful to Larry. He would not have brought you here otherwise--except he didn’t, did he? You and everyone else just came because you wanted to, which shows you’re loyal. Not only are you loyal to Larry though, you’re also extremely loyal to your best friend, Jedediah. But you weren’t always friends--at first you were enemies. Once you realized that your civilizations were not actually civilizations--that they’re just museum displays, you realized you have similar goals and became _very_ good friends,” Sherlock rattled off. “But there’s more to that friendship, isn’t there?”

Octavius tensed up. Sherlock really did know everything. 

“You like men, don’t you Octavius?”

John groaned. This was not going well. Sherlock was about to ruin a friendship, John could just tell.

Sherlock let that one sink in, and didn’t elaborate further, to John’s relief. There were too many deductions to be done, and it was clear everyone knew what he meant by _that_ question.

“Alright, onto Jedediah now,” Sherlock announced, after awkwardly deducing Octavius.

Jedediah was surprised--honestly just surprised when Sherlock told everyone that Octavius liked him more than a friend. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this new discovery at all.

“Jedediah--you basically have the same story as Octavius. What can I say, you two are both figurines on display at a museum. You’re gruff sometimes, but that’s all an act. It is rather impressive that you’ve lowered your guard enough to form a friendship with a Roman, I’ll give you that. After my . . . discovery . . . regarding Octavius’s interests, you’re confused, which is understandable. You haven’t thought much about romance because you’ve spent your whole life in a museum, with Octavius on adventures . . .” Sherlock stopped, looking as if he realized something. He suddenly snapped out of it. “I--I guess what I’m saying is that this whole idea, it’s new to you and you have to _think about it._ ” Sherlock left it at that, unsure of if he had crossed a line or not.

“Ah! Teddy!” Sherlock exclaimed, glad to be off of whatever subject he had been on. “You know you’re not actually Teddy Roosevelt, good for you. You think highly of Larry, thought I don’t know why. It makes you feel good to understand and help others, like helping Larry find that his place is at the museum, I suppose,” Sherlock quickly said, hoping to distract his mind. “Then there’s Sacajawea. You’ve fancied her for quite a while, finally worked up the nerve to just talk to her, which is . . .  lovely. And she clearly thinks highly of you,” Sherlock added, addressing a blushing Sacajawea.

Teddy smiled. Sherlock seemed a little more careful about his deductions after the Octavius/Jedediah incident.

“There’s really not much to add about Sacajawea other than she fancies Teddy as well. Oh, and she’s relieved to be away from Lewis and Clark. They always argue and pay no attention to her, despite her striking beauty,” Sherlock deduced.

If John didn’t know any better he would think Sherlock was hitting on Sacajawea. But Sherlock was Sherlock, there was no way. Absolutely no way, and definitely not with a wax figure. 

“Let’s move onto Dexter--he’s the only one left. You think you’re clever, don’t you? And you are, for a monkey. You like to play tricks on Larry, which, who wouldn’t? The man _is_ pretty daft--”

“Sherlock--” John interrupted.

“John, yes, he is daft. He even admits it himself. Anyway, back to Dexter. Dexter, despite Larry’s foolishness, you are extremely loyal to him. There is a certain tension between you two, and it works in your favor. It’s rather endearing--a man and his monkey.”

“Hold on--you think something is _endearing?!”_ John demanded.

“Well--yes, it’s rather complicated, John,” Sherlock replied, thinking a single thought: _Redbeard._

 

:)

When Ahkmenrah’s father told him that even he did not know all of the secrets of the tablet, Ahkmenrah felt helpless. He felt like this was all a waste of time. Sure, he got to see his parents, but it hadn’t helped him or his friends at all. He felt like a failure.

“I’m sorry,” Ahkmenrah told Larry. “I’ve failed you.”

Larry looked at Ahkmenrah. “There has to be something--some way,” he replied.

“I don’t think there is,” Ahkmenrah said sadly. “My father was our only hope. He is the only one who was alive when the tablet was forged. My mother and I were alive, of course, but I was an infant, and my mother knows hardly anything about the tablet.”

Larry felt defeated. There was nothing else to do. They tried, but tonight, he would lose everything. The tablet was almost fully corroded, and soon there would be nothing left to salvage.

“Dad,” Nick expressed, suddenly having an idea, “what about Sherlock.”

“Nicki, if you think I can just replace all of my friends, my life, with some sociopath who I just met--”

“No, Dad, no, gosh no,” Nick answered, clearly disgusted at the thought. “He might know what to do.”

Larry looked at Nick, suddenly hopeful again, but not wanting to get ahead of himself. “Well, we don’t have anything to lose, do we?” Larry asked as he, Nick, and Ahkmenrah exited the Egypt exhibit to meet up with the group.

 

:)

 

Sherlock stopped deducing, and the group fell silent. After a few moments, everyone began talking amongst themselves, allowing Sherlock to look at John--to really look at John. John was ordinary, but yet he wasn’t ordinary. _He’s not like Larry_ , Sherlock thought. Larry could never do what John did. Not in a million years. So yes, John was extraordinary. And John was _his_. 

Yet, John was not his--not in the way that Sherlock fantasized about, which was strange, since Sherlock rarely fantasized. But yes, he had indeed fantasized about John being his, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant, or what he wanted it to mean. It was clearly different than what John wanted, which was fine. It just meant that John would never be his, so actually it, in fact, was not fine. But for Sherlock, it had to be fine, because there was no other option. _He_ had to be fine. _It_ had to be fine. _Life_ had to be fine. Sherlock was past hope that there would be anything that wasn’t what he dubbed as _fine_ between them.

Yet he appreciated John. He truly did appreciate his blogger, at the end of the day. Without John--he just couldn’t imagine how his life would have continued. He would still solve cases, it wouldn't be the same. Nothing would be the same. It couldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t be _happy_. Yes, that was it-- _happy._ And didn’t everyone deserve to be happy? Including him? He was happy with things being fine, but someday, what if happiness wasn’t enough? What came after happiness? Sherlock wasn’t sure; he rarely let himself think about emotions. And in the middle of a case--what was he doing? 

 

He snapped out of his thoughts, just as John realized that Sherlock had been staring at him for a long time.

 

“Sherlock, I’m fine,” John confirmed.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied.

“So you . . . don’t have to do that,” John continued, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Do what?” Sherlock asked.

 

John didn’t feel like replying. Sherlock definitely knew what he was doing, not that John would ever understand why. While Sherlock was--who knows where--Octavius had somehow crawled up to John’s shoulder without John noticing.

“It’s true, you know, everything he said about me,” Octavius told John. “But you don’t doubt him ever, so I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“No, I don’t doubt Sherlock, but . . . “ John answered, suddenly aware that Sherlock was staring. At him.

“But you don’t understand him, do you?” Octavius asked.

“No one does,” John whispered.

“So you don’t know?” 

“What?”

“His expression--that look, why he’s--”

“Staring at me? Heavens no. You don’t either, right? You think it’s just as creepy as I do?”

“Creepy? God no. I’ve given that expression too many time before to think of it as ‘creepy.’”

 

:)

 

“Sherlock!” Larry exclaimed, running towards the consulting detective, who happened to be sitting in a circle with John and the New Yorkers.

“I thought you no longer required my assistance,” Sherlock countered, with an amused look on his face.

“Well, I didn’t think I did! But unfortunately, Ahkmenrah just ran us into a dead end,” Larry announced.

“Oh, it’s so not my fault that my dad--my dad who helped create the tablet--apparently doesn’t know shit about it,” Ahkmenrah argued, clearly annoyed with the whole trip now.

“Right, well, then Nicki had a great idea,” Larry continued. “Go ahead, Nicki, tell him.”

“My idea was to ask Sherlock Holmes if he knew what was wrong witht the tablet,” Nick said, hoping for the best in Sherlock’s response.

“Then you have come to the right consulting detective,” Sherlock answered complacently. “Of course I know how to fix the tablet. I knew as soon as you told me about the corrosion.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Larry asked, unable to believe the time they had wasted.

“Oh come on Larry! You wouldn’t have believed me--you were convinced you had to see Ahkmenrah’s parents, who as Ahkmenrah mentioned, were present when the tablet  was forged. In your mind, they were your only hope. I could never know how to help, since I am British, not Egyptian, and clearly I had no knowledge that the tablet brings everything to life.”

“Okay, yeah, can we just skip to the part where you tell me what to do?” Larry asked, just wanting to fix everything as fast as possible. He could live without Sherlock’s sass.

“Moonlight. Idiot,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

“Moonlight, as in--”

“Yes, Larry hold the tablet up to the moon,” Sherlock elaborated.

“That’s it?” Larry was beyond disbelief.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered.

“So I should probably do that now,” Larry said.

“Now would be good, before there’s no gold left is ideal, if you want to save it,” Sherlock answered.

Larry and the gang started walking, looking for some sort of exit to get outside to the moonlight when all of a sudden, Sherlock stopped. “Tilly,” He said suddenly, breaking from the group and running back to the gates. John followed the consulting detective, unsure about what he was after.

 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock distracts, John becomes uncomfortable, and Larry is on a quest for moonlight.

“Tilly?” John asked. “The security guard?”

“Yes, John, she has to be suspicious by now,” Sherlock answered.

“About us? I doubt it,” John answered.

“No John! About Larry and the delivery. Surely she’s noticed that the van that has come in through the gates a few hours ago just to make a delivery has not left yet.”

“You think she’d realize?”

“What else would she occupy herself with thinking about all night?”

John could think of a lot of things Tilly would be thinking about, like her boyfriend or her hair or food . . .

“Seriously, John, she’s not thinking about food,” Sherlock said, reading John’s mind. “She’d be too tired to think about anything serious.”

“Food is serious, Sherlock? _You_ don’t even think food is serious.”

“To her it is.”

Sherlock and John reached the tollbooth. 

“Sherlock, she’s sleeping,” John reasoned, clearly unimpressed.

Sherlock shrugged. How was he supposed to know she would fall asleep on the job? He hadn’t deduced that at all. When they had talked to her earlier, there were coffee cups cluttering up the tollbooth. Who fell asleep after drinking that much coffee?

At the sound of John’s voice, Tilly woke up. 

“Way to go, John,” Sherlock said to John, “now we’ll have to talk to her about her hair for a good half hour.”

Tilly rolled down the window at the tollbooth. “Oh! It’s you--you’re back! Come to talk to me?”

Sherlock’s reply of, “Of course, I missed you,” was definitely not “Sherlockian.” John could already see how this was going to go.

 

:)

 

Larry and Nick ran as fast as they could with the tablet, leaving the others in the dust. Then all of a sudden, they ran into Lancelot and Attila the Hun. Attila had found string or something somewhere, and had tied Lancelot’s hands together. Lancelot did not seemed fazed by the string. That was slightly concerning. Larry wasn’t sure it could hold the knight. To confirm Larry’s suspicions, Lancelot broke the string. He was free, and if Sherlock was right, he wanted the tablet. Larry kept running, hoping that Lancelot wouldn’t catch him.

In the next room, Larry came face to face with the Triceratops skeleton. Larry skidded to a halt, Nick was close at his heels. Lancelot was right behind Nick. Larry had to do some quick thinking. He suddenly remembered a list, a list of what to do during his first night on the job as a night guard at the museum.

Rexy, the Tyrannosaurus Rex at the museum in New York enjoyed playing fetch. In fact, the number one thing on Larry’s “to-do” list was to throw Rexy a bone. Larry wasn’t positive that this Triceratops liked to fetch, but there was only one way to find out. The problem was that Larry didn’t have a stick or a bone to throw. 

Lancelot pulled out his sword and started to approach Larry. Lancelot’s eyes were focused on Larry and the tablet, which gave Nick the perfect opportunity to trip the knight. 

“I’ll take that!” Nick exclaimed, taking Lancelot’s sword as Lancelot fell to the ground. Nick knew exactly what Larry was thinking--fetch. Nick threw the sword, and the triceratops bounded after it with delight. The crisis was averted. Larry and Nick started running to the doors again, just as Lancelot stood up. 

After getting back on his feet, Lancelot was rewarded by the sight of Attila, who had caught up to him. Attila was now carrying a thick rope. Lancelot was rebound, and Attila was determined not to let his prisoner get away again. 

 

:)

 

“Wow, just wow,” Tilly breathed. No one bothered talking to her. People didn’t _like_ to talk to her.

“What?” Sherlock asked, still in his charming mode.

“You’re really . . .”

“Handsome? Yes,” Sherlock replied. He went around to the back of the tollbooth, and Tilly let him in. John was left at the window, truly puzzled at Sherlock.

“You’re hair--can I . . .can I braid it?” Sherlock asked shyly.

John gasped. He couldn’t help it. _Sherlock Holmes  . . . Braiding? Sherlock knows how to braid_?

“Yes, John, I know how to braid,” Sherlock said, addressing John.

“You . . . do that then,” John replied, slightly jealous. Not that he should be. It’s not like his hair could be braided. Hypothetically, if he _did_ grow it out, would Sherlock braid it? John wasn’t sure.

Sherlock began braiding Tilly’s hair, and _making small talk._ John knew it was all an act to distract the night guard, but if he hadn’t known that, he would’ve believed everything, absolutely everything that was happening right now.

“So your boyfriend?” Sherlock inquired, sounding curious.

“Oh, well, he’s alright I suppose. He’s someone,” Tilly answered. “I’d break up with him in a heartbeat if I found . . . someone better,” she added. Then she winked at Sherlock.

“Find anyone yet?” Sherlock asked.

John just could not take this. He knew it was an act, but did Sherlock really need to go through all this deception just to be a distraction? John didn’t think so. He didn’t like when Sherlock charmed people, but it was certainly effective.

Tilly giggled. “Maybe,” she replied.

“Someone who . . . is worth it?” Sherlock asked.

Tilly smiled. “And where exactly did you come from?” 

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

 

John couldn’t--he couldn’t believe what happened next. Sherlock leaned down and kissed Tilly, and it wasn’t like it was a quick peck, it was an actual, long--too long--kiss. John shuddered. He felt something that he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it annoyance? Yes, but there was more. Was it  . . . jealousy? John slowed his thinking for a moment. Yes. It was jealousy. 

 

:)

 

 

Larry and Nick burst through the main entrance of the museum in London. There were clouds blocking the moon at the moment. Larry instantly felt another wave of defeat wash over him.

“Dad, don’t worry, there’s an opening between those two clouds,” Nick said, pointing to the place in the sky he was referencing.

“Yeah, okay,” Larry agreed. They would just have to wait. It would work.

“It’s ok, we’ll make it,” Nick reassured him.

Larry hugged Nick. He loved his son so much, despite Nick’s rebellious nature at times. After a few minutes, actually more like ten, there was moonlight. Larry held up the tablet. The shimmering moonlight illuminated the tablet. The tablet began to glow as the corrosion disappeared. They had done it. Larry had saved his friends.

 


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is inevitable.

John accepted the fact that he was jealous. It was something he never dared to admit to himself before, but just with everything that had happened in the past few days--today especially--he couldn’t lie to himself. Not anymore. And he had to tell Sherlock, it wasn’t right otherwise. Although ignorance is bliss, John felt it was the right thing to do. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he felt he couldn’t live his life properly because of whatever was bottled up inside of him.

Tilly suddenly realized that John was also there, in addition to Sherlock. “Oh, you’re _still_ here,” she said awkwardly. 

“Yes, I know about your secret romance, get over it,” John snapped. He was about to lose it. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized, “I just am . . . stressed . . . that’s all.”

“Oh, well, sure,” she replied, clearly not knowing what to say.

Sherlock was rebraiding her hair, something different this time, a reverse french braid perhaps? John couldn’t tell, but it wasn’t like he cared.

After hearing Tilly address John, Sherlock also realized John was still there. “John, you okay?” Sherlock asked, concerned about how his friend suddenly out of nowhere, snapped at the pathetic nightguard.

“Fine,” John replied, distracted with his own thoughts again. _How to tell Sherlock . . . When to tell Sherlock . . ._

Sherlock stopped braiding. _John wasn’t fine_. He thought about that for a minute before he realized that Larry probably had enough time by now to reach the moonlight, despite his incompetence. Sherlock wanted to get out of the tollbooth as fast as possible. 

“I. Can’t. Do. This,” Sherlock complained, apparently frustrated with his braiding.

“Sherlock Holmes can’t do something?” John taunted, still annoyed.

“I have to go, Tilly,” Sherlock said, undoing the braid and putting her hair back into the side-ponytail her boyfriend hated.

“Why? No, don’t go,” Tilly pleaded. “This is the most I’ve ever talked to someone during a shift.” 

“Tilly, I--I can’t do _this_ ,” Sherlock explained.

“Oh, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said, knowing this was too good to be true.

“It wouldn’t be right, you see, to your boyfriend. Or my blogger.” 

 

:)

 

Larry and Nick walked back inside with the restored tablet, only to run into their friends, who seemed to be discussing something. 

“Larry, the tablet has to stay here,” Jedediah said, not bothering to sugar-coat it.

“Yes, Ahkmenrah belongs with his parents and the tablet _here_ ,” Teddy agreed.

“Oh,” Larry replied. He suddenly felt very lost as it began to sink in that this was it. He would lose everything.

“We know that we won’t ever come to life again,” Sacajawea added, “but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. You have to do what is right, even though it’s not something you want to do.

“So, we have to say good-bye then,” Larry said. “It’s almost light outside.”

“Yes, we do,” Ahkmenrah said. “Thank you everyone for helping me to reunite with my parents, and for being the most unselfish friends I have had, and I shall ever have.” 

Larry said goodbye to his friends. A hug for Ahkmenrah, who made everything possible in the beginning. A pat on the back for Attila the Hun, who no longer wished to pull his limbs apart. A handshake for Teddy, who gave him the most inspiring quotes. A nod to Jedediah and Octavius, who were in embraced the first true hug Larry had ever seen them share. A wave to Sacajawea, since he had always highly respected her. A painfully tight hug for his doppelganger, Laaa, who always looked to him for guidance. And then he received a kiss from Dexter. Larry was surprised the monkey didn’t slap him like he usually did, to be honest.

Larry sighed. It was all over. He had to move on in life, it was not a path he would have chosen for himself, considering he had always crawled his way back to the museum every time he had strayed from it. But this was thrust upon him, and he had to rise to the occasion.

Part of it was that he would never be able to go back to museum, and he knew it. It wouldn’t be the same without all of the magic. There would be nothing but lifelessness. He had to take his life in a new direction, something he had never done before. Deep down in his heart, he knew that he wouldn’t forget this. Any of this.

 

:)

 

John was confused. _Did Sherlock . . . ?_ _No? Yes? Maybe?_ Yes, confused, he was utterly, unbelievably confused. And Sherlock could tell. 

Tilly hugged Sherlock, which he quickly ended, because he was not an emotional person, and he left the tollbooth, practically running. He needed to see if Larry succeeded with the tablet. He had to know that he was right about the moonlight. John ran after Sherlock, barely keeping up with his flatmate.

“Sherlock . . .?” John asked, out of breath.

“What, John?”

John didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t exactly the best time. He didn’t want to pour his heart out while running. It was hard enough to breathe properly let alone talk.

“John?” Sherlock asked again.

“Later,” John answered.

Sherlock nodded in reply.

 

As soon as they reached the inside of the main entrance of the museum, John sensed that something emotional was happening. There was crying, and hugging, and “good-byes.” John was confused, but then he had a thought: _what if Sherlock wasn’t right about the moonlight?_

This was bad. Larry might be the most ordinary person ever, but if he lost his friends--his life--because of Sherlock, John knew he’d feel guilty forever. Sherlock might not, but John knew that he would.

“What’s going on?” Sherlock asked Larry, who was in the middle of shaking Teddy’s hand. 

“The moonlight,” He replied.

“It didn’t work?” Sherlock was confused, he had been sure it would.

“No, no, it did,” Larry reassured Sherlock.

John breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Sherlock’s fault.

“Then . . .?” Sherlock inquired, gesturing to the emotional display occurring around him.

“Ahkmenrah is joining his parents, and staying here. With the tablet,” Larry explained.

“Oh,” John heard himself utter. This was about the saddest thing he had ever heard. To lose so many friends, all in one moment . . . he couldn’t imagine that.

“It’s okay, I’m not sure yet, but I think I’m going to become a teacher,” Larry announced excitedly.

“And that’s exactly what’s wrong with America’s public education system,” Sherlock said.

“Sorry,” John said, “He’s . . . well, you kind of know.”

“Yes,” Larry agreed, “and I suppose I have to put up with whatever he says, since he’s the one who is responsible for being able to restore the tablet.”

 

:)

 

Larry and Nick walked through the doors of the Natural History Museum in New York City. They just finished putting back the artifacts they had taken with them to the delivery in London, except for Ahkmenrah and the tablet, of course. Larry had also gotten Dr. McPhee his job back.

“I still can’t believe you took all of the blame,” Dr. McPhee had told Larry, “You loved this job so much, I don’t understand.”

“Yes, I _did_ love this job. I can’t anymore, though,” Larry told Dr. McPhee.

Although Dr. McPhee would never truly understand that statement, he never asked Larry why. 

 

Larry and Nick were outside now, the air of the city hitting their faces, filling them with new possibilities.

“Hey Nicki, Deejaying could be kind of cool,” Larry told his son, smiling at him.

Nick smiled back. 

 


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks have passed since Larry left London.

John had to tell Sherlock his feelings. He kept telling himself that ever since the museum case, which was a few weeks ago. How he had let that much time pass, he still wasn’t sure. Sherlock was on his laptop doing research for an experiment. They had just finished their latest case a few hours ago, so Sherlock was trying to abstain from boredom. It was now or never.

“Sherlock?” John asked.

“Yes, John,” Sherlock replied looking up from his work.

“You remember the museum case?”

“Hmmm . . . yes.”

“What you told Tilly, that it wouldn’t be fair to me . .  .” John started.

“Yes. I told her that it wouldn’t be fair to you because it wouldn’t.” 

“What do you mean?”

“That it wouldn’t be fair to you. I honestly did mean that.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because it wouldn’t.”

“Sherlock, I date girls all the time. You’re allowed to date people, you know that right?” John asked painfully. Suddenly the conversation was not going where he wanted it to go at all. 

“Yes, I know. But John, you’re the only one I want.”

 

Then John knew. And he smiled.

 

:)

 

Larry decided that he would get his teaching degree. It was something that began to interest him when he started working at the museum originally. Teachers would bring their classes to the museum, and the kids’ faces would always light up as history would come alive for them in that moment. When he worked at the museum, Larry had felt like a child in the sense that he had discovered something new--a new perspective to the world. It made him feel something inside, something that he longed to feel again. He was confident teaching would do this for him.

Walking down the streets of New York, he realized he was in front of the Natural History Museum. He was filled with memories of his former job, and he smiled. He could never step foot in there again, he just couldn’t. Everything would be tainted for him if he did.

Lost in his thoughts, Larry suddenly ran into a stunning brunette who gave off the impression that she wasn’t familiar with New York.

“Sorry,” she exclaimed, in an Irish accent, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s alright, you look a little lost,” Larry noted.

“Oh! Yes, I am. I’m Janine, by the way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
